Could Not Ask to Give
by sketchyheart
Summary: Jean Havoc wasn't very comfortable at being supportive. (Blunt spoiler for ep25; Suggestive Yaoi; Jean x Roy)


**Series:** Fullmetal Alchemist

**Pairing:** Jean x Roy

**Rating:** PG-13; for suggestive yaoiness

**Spoilers:** A real nice blunt one for episode 25 and manga chapters 15-16.

**Author's Notes:** Well then. Not much to say beyond the fact that its FMA and HavocxMustang. Besides the light warning for suggestive things at the end.. So its probably wise not to read if Yaoi tones offend you. I'm sure this is all rather OOC, but bear with me. This is also my first submission to , so I apologize if I manage to royally screw something up. All that being said, reviews are nice (I'm sure), and I hope someone might enjoy this.

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Jean Havoc wasn't very comfortable at being supportive. He was a soldier before anything else, tainted with the bitter stains that war would give. He could be the loyal dog the military wanted him to be, coming at his master's beck and call, and doing what he was told. He'd get a nod of a head that was supposed to make his tail wag if he did a good job. Havoc would simply nod, waiting for the superior officer to walk off before he would go to find to take a smoke and close his eyes, blowing all his thoughts out in smoke.

It was with gentler tears that Havoc often stumbled over. Girls could come to him, but all he could really do was secure them in an embrace and awkwardly rub their backs as they wept. Maybe that was one of the reasons why he could never keep a girl for long. He didn't know how to help them in their times of need beyond those awkward hugs. Comforting words were never able to find their way out of his mouth, or even into his mind. Not with the ease that a comforting support needed to possess. So they would look for one who was able to give them that.

He hated when someone died. It was overall depressing for everyone. They would bring back too many memories that Havoc didn't want to think about then, and their was always someone looking for a shoulder to cry on and talk about things. Havoc had the shoulder, but not the soothing sounds and hands that were supposed to come with it.

Brigadier General Hughes' death had been a shock to everyone. He had a family. He had friends. He had annoyed practically every military personnel with photos of his daughter. He was going to be sorely missed.

Havoc's initial surprise had been discovering that Colonel Mustang had left to go to Central in the middle of the night with Lieutenant Hawkeye. Hawkeye had been the one to leave the information with Farman, and was the one to call the next day to.. break the news to them. They would be returning in two days, she had said. Would Lieutenant Havoc please pick them up when their train came in? It was an order under a request, prompting Jean to be punctual about it. That was where Havoc's third surprise decided to greet him in the form of a silent Roy Mustang storming up to the car, barely acknowledging the greeting he was receiving. Havoc had blinked, and Mustang had glanced at him, making Havoc blink even more. It was the same determined eyes looking back at the taller man, except... Jean frowned, putting his finger on what was wrong.

His eyes were cold. So very, very cold. The spark of the familiar flame that he would always see behind his eyes was no longer there, having been extinguished by something else. The realization left Havoc stunned, and he looked to Hawkeye for some kind of explanation as the car door opened and shut. Hawkeye merely gave a tired shrug, getting into the vehicle. So she wasn't sure other. Havoc sighed, following the other two's example so he could get the both of them home soundly.

The only thing that was really said on the way was Roy's stony request to be dropped off first, which Havoc obliged easily enough. Jean looked at Roy from the driver's window, voice trying to somehow formulate words of some kind of encouragement. But this is what he was horrible at, and the results were just a few concerned looks and the beginnings of sentences. Roy had simply given him a pained smile, effectively rendering Jean speechless as Roy walked away from them and into his home.

It was quiet on the way to Hawkeye's as well, though it was admittedly less tense than it was before. This time she touched his arm as Havoc said his good nights to her. Havoc blinked up at her in surprise, and her grip lightened. "Keep an eye on him, Havoc." There was a plea in her eyes, and Jean didn't think Hawkeye was any better than he was at this emotional thing. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. _Promise_. The action seemed to provoke the desired effect, as Riza was able to nod and exit the car, leaving Jean with the task that he had apparently taken on.

The Colonel's house was depressing. The car interior was depressing. The flame dancing from his lighter seemed depressing, as if the Flame Alchemist's obvious sorrow was affecting it. Even his cigarette was drooping. _Dammit._ Havoc got out, walking around the vehicle to start up the walk, only to lean against the car and stare at the despairing home in front of him. Havoc's cheeks hollowed as he took a slow drag, the nicotine working to steady his hand. His eyes followed the swirls of smoke as he blew them out, the glowing embers flickering as the stick hit the pavement. The flicking hand rubbed the back of his head as he sighed, boot twisting over the dying cancer stick as he went up the walk.

The first troubling sign was the lack of Roy Mustang answering his door. Jean tried for five minutes, eventually tiring of rapping his knuckles (and alternatively, his fist) against the door, settling to glare at the wood. "Colonel Mustang!" Havoc waited a moment to see what the reaction would be. When it turned out to be more of nothing, Jean's worried expression only became more troubled. Even if it was the middle of the night and Mustang wanted to kill Havoc for waking him, the Colonel always got to his door after a few knocks.

"Colonel Mustang!" His hand grabbed the door handle on impulse as soon as the shout left his mouth, Jean's eyes widening in surprise as the door opened. He stumbled a moment, blinking, and then his look darkened as he peered inside carefully. Havoc had never known Roy to keep his door unlocked, even if there was someone he was expecting to be at his doorstep. Havoc quietly closed the door behind him, calling out softly to the darkened room. "Colonel?"

The question met an empty response, deepening the worry that was gnawing on him. His eyes swept over the untouched items in the room, following the light that he spied streaming across the floor. Havoc inched towards it, hand hovering over his holster. Something was obviously wrong. Havoc was a soldier before anything else, and caution was the thing governing him at the moment as he peeked around the corner. The light blue eyes widened, certainly not expecting what he saw.

Roy's back was facing Havoc, bent over the little table he had in his kitchen. His hand was loosely clinging to a shot that he been nursing with the bottle next to him. It took a moment for the blonde to get himself moving, reaching out to lightly shake Roy's shoulder. "Colonel?" There was a light 'hn' in response, the body shifting only slightly. Jean's frown deepened, shaking the should a touch more roughly, becoming the first one to step over the lines of formality tonight. "Roy!"

There was a groan this time and the figure moved, Roy raising his head just enough to give a brief look over his shoulder. "....Havoc?" Jean nodded dumbly, mind trying to register the positively heartbroken tone in Roy's voice. His Colonel straightened in the chair and Havoc stared, suddenly a bit unsure about why exactly he was there.

Then Havoc's face was rushing down, his body being pulled by the needy, unsteady hands fisted in his uniform. Words were about to tumble out of his mouth in some sort of protest, only to fall silent at the sight of Roy's face. It was pale and worn, looking unnaturally tired. The dark eyes that Havoc has always taken to watching no longer looked so cold, now only looking dull and somewhat bloodshot, the only emotion that Havoc could see in them was... desperation. Their faces were just inches apart, and Jean could smell the lingering traces of alcohol on Roy's breath. Mustang's grip tightened in the folds of Havoc's uniform jacket, drawing the taller man down just a little closer, just barely missing Jean's mouth with his, igniting a warm tingle over Havoc's cheeks. "Sir..I.."

"I can't do this, Havoc.." Roy's voice wavered low and warm against Jean's ear, sending a shiver down his spine. Roy lowered his head, burying his face in Havoc's collar, whispering hoarsely into it. "I can't do this.. I can't.." The dark haired man tensed for a moment as Jean's hand hesitantly stroked his hair, and then he relaxed under the comforting touch, his hands slipping around Jean's back.

Havoc simply kept stroking the back of Roy's head, gaining a bit more confidence as it seemed to be soothing Roy, somewhat. He glanced down at the top of the dark head, frowning some. The last time he had seen Mustang like this was the night of Brigadier General Hughes' wedding, when Havoc had found him at the bar. Finding him there when the reception had to have been still going on was surprising enough, but finding him wasted was a whole other shock. He had been worse off that night, if only because he had more than a half-hour to get the alcohol into his system. Havoc's frown deepened at the idea of the Mustang he might have found if he had waited longer before coming in to see him. He found himself cringing at the thought, only to be stirred by hands tightening their grip on his back and lips grazing over his own.

The kiss hot, wet, and needy, with Roy pushing his mouth desperately against Havoc's. Jean gasped quietly into the kiss, working on impulse and returning it. Somewhere in the back of Havoc's mind, little warnings were going off. Roy had been piss fucking drunk, for lack of more delicate terms, last time. It had just been Hughes' wedding last time, not his funeral. They might have slipped into some kind of relationship over those next six years, but there wasn't anyway that this could be considered anything but Havoc taking advantage of Roy, even if Roy had instigated it.. and this certainly wasn't the kind of comfort Havoc would have thought to give.

So Havoc thought it was perfectly alright to pull away, trying to explain his case to Roy.

The look Roy gave him did nothing less than threaten to twist Jean's heart up and stab it through with guilt. "I'm perfectly sober, Havoc. You didn't let me get very far," He said flatly, dark eyes level with the troubled lighter blue ones. Havoc frowned again, wondering how it was possible that Roy was making him feel guilty for not letting the man get himself smashed. Roy's arms lifted, wrapping around Havoc's neck, suddenly eyes needy and pleading. Havoc blinked, parting his lips slightly and then closing them again in unsettled surprise at the change. "Please.." Roy murmured, pressing his cheek against Havoc's collar again. "..Please.. I need this.... I need you, Jean."

The low purr of his name was the thing that chased away the rest of Havoc's uneasiness, his hand finding Roy's chin and lifting his face to kiss him again. Roy sighed, drawing Jean closer as he got himself up on the table. Jean leaned down after him as Roy laid back, brushing his hand over Roy's cheek as he pulled away slightly, eyes doubtful for a moment. "..Here?" Mustang roughly pulled Havoc back down, the meaning clear. _I really don't give a damn, stop being reasonable and just _kiss me

Jean complied, going slow. It wasn't what Roy wanted, and he made that clear with fiery responses, urging Havoc to quicken his pace. The blonde responded more in Mustang's favor, lowering his face to trail kisses down along the writhing body's throat and any other patch of skin that he could get at from the slightly unbuttoned dress shirt.

There weren't anymore coherent words, just the ruffling and slipping of cloth, shallow swallows of breath and raspy moans, the occasional cry of a name on a hitched gasp. It was hard and uncomfortable, but that's what was asked for. The dark haired man's hand tightened its grip on its lover's as the taller man pushed back in. The stinging pain faded, replaced with something else, the table biting into his skin and a fiery ache in his chest. It burned like no other, and Roy felt something cool on his cheeks as he murmured Jean's name. This part wasn't supposed to happen. He bit his free hand, squeezing Havoc's hand tighter as the fresh pain registered in his brain.

The blonde glanced up, watching the tears slide down Roy's cheek defiantly. Havoc leaned over, gently kissing away the salty trails, his fingers tightening their own hold. _I won't leave you_. It wasn't a promise. Promising not to leave wasn't like keeping an eye on someone. A soldier wasn't able to make promises like that. _But I would if I could.._ Simply knowing this seemed to be enough, as Roy's hand relaxed under his, their bodies slowing into a gentler pace.

Jean Havoc wasn't very comfortable at being supportive. He was a soldier before anything else, and didn't really know how to respond when people asked for comfort. Havoc shut his eyes, burying his face in the crook of Roy's neck as the smaller man gasped beneath him. It was this man that Jean could stand beside, knowing that he wouldn't find someone else that was better at supporting him.

Because Roy Mustang wasn't very comfortable at receiving such support.


End file.
